Together, Forever
by Musique et Amour
Summary: ON HAITUS '...I look back on just what started all of this: Curiosity. Dreams. Determination. Fear...' First person, different perspectives on events that surrounded Jekyll and his counterpart Hyde. You don't need to know the story to follow.
1. Prologue Chapter 01

_So it begins. The prologue._

_Bit of a warning, this is **all** going to be first person, and not always from Jekyll. At times I might not mention who's speaking. __This ficis sparked from different versions from book to movie to musical. I have a habit of doing that, heh... By the way, y__ou won't have to know the story to be able to understand what's going on. I'm writing this in mind that not everyone has read/seen it._

_Preemptive thanks to my former beta/editor and my various encouraging friends. _

**Disclaimer**: Nope, don't own anything beyond this story. Maybe a random non-canon character now and again. Other than that the original author is the genius behind the tale.

**Request:** Last but not least, I'm looking for another editor/beta to assist me. You don't have to know the story, though it'll help, and it'll also be helpfulto have a general grasp on different character "voices." If you're interested, drop me a mail.

* * *

"There is no Henry! _Only _Hyde!" 

The beast's voice was an animal's rasp, sending chills up the spines of those attending the wedding celebration. They backed away as he spun on them, waistcoat hanging loose - delicate buttons snapped off – his hair dangling in ratty strands before his face. The stench of fear was strong in the air, bringing a growling purr from his throat. Lisa's eyes were wide, childlike with incomprehension, her fingers itching to reach out to her husband – no, this _monster_. But the look in his wild, rust-colored gaze and her father's hand upon her arm kept her at bay. There were tears in her beautiful hazel eyes, making them agony to look upon. It should have been a joyous occasion, but one change ... one not-so-simple change had completely destroyed their bliss.

I look back on just what started all of this: Curiosity. Dreams. Determination. _Fear_... Steadily, over the years, Mr. Jekyll Sr. had descended into darkness, his mind slipping away from him until he was left nothing but a babbling fool. It pained me to see him within that damnable hospital, surrounded by nurses that did not care whether or not he survived. They showed no concern until he silenced and lay staring at the ceiling from his small sunken cot, blinking only when necessary – if his eyes opened at all – being fed sustenance by force. A man should never have to live this way, but it would have been inhumane to put him down like a lame dog. There had to be a way to bring him back from his endless night; had to be a way to assist him, lead him back to reality. To home...

And I, Henry Jekyll, was determined to accomplish it.


	2. Chapter 02

Ever since I was a young man I had been interested in the human mind. I wanted to learn all that I could - with my limited capabilities. The _why's_ and _how's_ of man's nature. Unfortunately, during my schooling my path was severely curtailed - all because of a pretty face. No, not mine. The face belonged to a young lady, with eyes as changeable as her moods. Yes, even I can be swayed by such things, regardless of what my 'friends' may say about me. I am a serious man, I admit, with a countenance that is rarely... _Blemished..._ by a smile. But a man nevertheless. Quite young one then, easily manipulated by bright eyes and a pretty smile. Do I regret becoming a lawyer? Not at all. Though some may think it dry, it has allowed me to delve into the psychology of people.

If only I could do so with Henry.

Henry was a complex man even in his youth, forever trying to 'fix' things that were not in his power to fix; such as the mental affliction of his father. I had the opportunity to accompany him to the hospital to visit the old man. Truth be told, I should not qualify it as an 'opportunity,' but more of a 'disturbance'. Henry was a strong individual; he rarely allowed his private hurts to be seen, but when he was next to the silver-haired Jekyll Sr. he was a broken man. He attempted to keep his composure, but I could tell by the heavy latch of his fingers against his bowler's rim – in sharp contrast to the he gentleness with which he held his father's hand – that he was overcome.

"Let it go, Henry," I told him, and he sank with a low moan next to his father's bed. Even I, the supposedly 'stoic' Utterson, found my throat constricting with a painful burn. I remained silent while he sobbed into the pristine cloth of his father's bedding. For nearly half an hour Henry released all that plagued him. He seemed almost a different man when he finally rose. His strength had returned. There was a new harshness within his eyes, one that frankly startled me. He brushed his hand over his eyes and, looking down upon his silent father, stroked his palm over the poor man's pale hair.

"Good night, father," he whispered so softly I almost did not hear him, and returned his bowler to his head. I did the same with my own, cocking it forward slightly as was my wont. Handing him his jacket, I followed him out of the hospital, silent as I had been for most of the visit. I wondered how much longer his father would have before he lost all touch with reality. He barely moved now, stuck in a near-comatose state, drifting between two worlds. His deterioration had begun with the death of his wife, Henry's mother. Neither Henry nor his father had ever fully accepted the reality of her death, that she had truly left them. Jekyll Sr. was particularly affected, and the first drips of madness trickled into his mind. With his decline came his son's. It pained me to watch the toll all of this was taking upon Henry.

As we approached the brougham he turned to me, setting a hand upon my shoulder, squeezing as he smiled wearily. "Thank you for coming with me, John." I nodded, clasping his shoulder in return with the vague hope of comforting, then collected my gloves to protect my hands from the chill in the air. Henry stood gazing upon the hospital, his jaw grimly set. "I know what I have to do. I have known all this time, but now – now I truly have a _reason_. They will not help him, John." I frowned, glancing over to him curiously. There was more behind his words than he spoke. I waited to see if he would go on, but he only shook his head and climbed into the carriage.

Behind me the clock struck nine, and I turned to regard the church across the street while running Henry's words through my mind. Something about them deeply troubled me, and I did not wish to disturb the strange newfound calm that had settled over the man. "Coming, my friend?" He broke my reverie. Climbing into the carriage, I closed the door behind me, seating myself across from him as he called out the destination to the driver, "46 Harley Street." With a click of the driver's tongue, the horses were briskly off in the direction of the Doctor's home.

"I will find an answer." He stared still at the retreating view of the hospital from the window of the brougham. I glanced to him and nodded. He _will _find an answer.

Of this I had no doubts.


	3. Chapter 03

Did it never stop raining in London? If it wasn't raining, it was the fog – a sweeping yellow blanket to choke the life out of even the hardiest soul. It was lucky I'd brought my umbrella and adorned myself with my warmest clothing, else I would've been soaked to the bone and freezing my petticoats off. Looking at the scrap of rain-dappled parchment in my hand, I studied the address, then glanced up at the numbers nailed or painted onto the facades of the houses. Quite an upscale neighborhood – not that I would have expected different from a respectable London doctor.

"46 Harley Street," I mumbled. Spotting the house, I sighed gently. It was no wonder the doctor needed a maid – the building was grand, tall and grey – and enormous, even compared to neighboring houses. It was respectable and well-kept – for London, where _everything _became grey and dingy with soot by the day, but to my eye, the window-frames were grimed, and the stoop looked as though it hadn't seen a good scrubbing in a week or more. Well, perhaps I could put that to rights. If they would have me, that was.

Adjusting my Sunday hat – my _only _hat – I smoothed my hand down my Sunday dress, only slightly spotted with the rain, and shifted the carpetbag holding my meager belongings. I was as clean and fresh as could possibly be expected on such a day, especially after my walk – and thankfully my hat did much to conceal my hair. A ridiculously bright shade of auburn, I prayed they wouldn't take one look at it and think me a harlot, or worse, Irish. Never mind that I _am_ Irish; hopefully the doctor's household wasn't one that believed the Irish were worse than the scum on their boots. What little I knew of them suggested they wouldn't share that opinion. Mrs. Kent, the good doctor's cook – who I knew somewhat – had shared a little with me. I knew the doctor was a bachelor, and that the house was too much for the small staff to handle on their own. The 'tweeny couldn't be trusted – being a 'tweeny - and the major domo Poole thought himself too high to do the heavier work. So I knew they'd have need of someone willing to do her share without complaint – which I was more than willing and ready to do.

Stepping along the cobbles and down the wrought iron framed path, I passed the front and followed the crushed gravel down to the kitchen entry 'round the side. With a tap, I waited on the step, tipping my head to keep the rain from dripping down the brim of my hat and into my eyes. Blowing aside a lock of reddish hair, I quickly hid it again as the door opened. A tall man, clean shaven and austere (_pinched_, my mam would have said), with white hair and a stiff spine looked down at me as if at a mouse in his cheese. "May I help you?" The words sounded unwilling, coming from so tight a mouth. The knot of nervousness in my stomach jumped up into my throat. "I... I'm Mary Reilly, sir. I've come about the advertisement. For help. Sir." I closed my umbrella, then fidgeted with the strap. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"Reilly." His pale eyes took me in from my boots to the drooping ribbons in my bonnet – arrested for several moments by (I _knew_ it) the color of my hair. "Irish." His lip curled slightly, though his tone was no more or less disdainful than when he'd greeted me a moment ago. Seeing as I could hardly deny that, I merely nodded, meeting his cold gaze without saying more. At last he spun on his heel and stepped back within, gesturing curtly for me to follow. With a deep breath, I swallowed and hefted my bag again, following him inside.

The kitchen was quite a contrast to the cold, grey outdoors. Warm, brightly lit to dispel the day's gloom, and filled with smells of cooking that made my stomach growl; the other denizens of the below stairs of the doctor's house were gathered there, performing a multitude of homely tasks. Mrs. Kent, shelling peas at the small, high table, saw me, her face lighting with pleasure as she rose. There was another girl, dark haired, younger perhaps than me, scrubbing away at a sinkfull of pots, and a boy with a pile of boots at his feet – both looked up when the tall man strode past, but neither spoke.

Mrs. Kent came forward, coming between me and my guide, who paused with a frown. "'ere, Poole, let the poor thing rest a mite before you take 'er to the Master; She's just come a long way, and on 'er own two feet. Let 'er catch a breath." She laid a hand on my arm with a sympathetic smile, and took the bag from my cold-stiffened fingers. "Now, now. Just take off them wet things and breathe a bit. Master's waited this long; 'e can wait two minutes more." The lines in Poole's face deepened, his eyes growing still colder, but he didn't dignify her interruption with a response. His chest rose as he drew an impatient breath, long fingers twitching once at his sides. I could see he was not a man accustomed to waiting for his underlings.

_Master._ My fingers fumbled at the knot of my cloak, drawing it off and over my arm. I wondered what this Master would be like, and if I would be able to please him. I swallowed again. I had no choice _but _to please – I had nowhere else to go. Mrs. Kent took the cloak from me, as well as my hat once my fingers managed to unloose the sodden ribbon beneath my chin. "I'll take these up to the attic, Mary; now don't worry about a thing. The Master won't bite." She gave a nod to Poole, bringing an affronted look to his shark-like eyes, and bustled out. I smoothed the wrinkles from my apron and ran my hands over the braided knot of my hair – aware that it must look even redder than before in the sunny glow of the kitchen lamps. Poole made a small sound in his throat as he looked at it, then turned abruptly from me again. "Come. Let's get this over with." He took me into the corridor, then through a maze of rooms. I couldn't make out much, with my eyes on Poole's back, but I did manage a few curious glances into rooms dark and tastefully furnished – clearly a bachelor's home, lacking a woman's touch.

Coming to a closed set of dark mahogany doors, Poole tapped once, and then leaned forward listening. In response to a signal only he could hear, he opened one door, then stepped inside, gesturing me to follow. "Mary Reilly, Sir." He might have been speaking of a spaniel pup found soaking wet and mud-covered outside on the stoop. "For the _advertisement_, Sir." I ducked my head as I entered, then glanced up. The room was dim, though lit by a fire. Books crowded every wall, shelf upon shelf of them. Seated in a comfortable leather chair before a crowded desk was a gentleman – as clearly a gentleman as I've ever seen. _The doctor. No, the Master_, I corrected myself, and bobbed a small curtsey as he rose.

He was older than me, but younger than Poole, with light brown, curly hair streaked with bits of gray. Though unmistakably genteel, to my eyes he looked surprisingly ragged, unshaven and desperately in need of sleep, which only made him appear older. I hid a small frown as he approached, glancing up and down, taking me in at once. Though he seemed exhausted, a warm smile crossed his lips.

"Mary, I'm very glad to have you. I'm sure you'll be a great help to us all." He nodded once, then turned back to his major domo. "Mr. Poole, could you show Miss Reilly around, please? I have work to return to." Poole glanced to the Doctor, then nodded. "Very well, Sir. We won't disturb you longer." Poole ushered me back towards the hall as the Doctor turned and made his way back to his table. The Doctor spoke once more as Poole turned to pull the double doors closed after us. "See that my dinner is left outside of the laboratory, Poole. I'll not be eating at the table tonight." If I hadn't glanced at that moment to the older man's face, I would have missed the brief flicker of concern. It took me several moments to realize the obvious: I was hired. Blinking once to get over the initial shock of such a quick acceptance, I smiled to myself.

"Well." Poole cleared his throat. My smile disappeared. "Our Doctor works very hard, Miss Reilly. He must never be disturbed or inconvenienced, especially by a _housemaid_." His tone again suggested that he found the very word distasteful. "I do hope you will not be a chatter-box here, Miss Reilly."

All the air gusted from my lungs in a sigh, as I shook my head and endeavored to appear silent and meek. "No, sir." I murmured. I needed a place, and this house was warm and welcoming, despite the forbidding Poole. I longed to roll up my sleeves and get to work. There was much here that I could do, though clearly the Master had more on his mind than the state of his front stoop. I hoped I would be able to settle in here, and perhaps, at last – find a _home_.


	4. Chapter 04

_After a needed delay.. back to our regularly scheduled program!_

* * *

While it seemed that the others accepted Reilly quickly enough, I had my reservations. Her background was clear – her hair and accent proclaimed it. She would be trouble, and I did not look forward to anything that could possibly threaten the quiet of my household. The Doctor's orders were precise, though: not to be judgmental and to hire the first eager unfortunate that answered the advertisement. If they proved untrustworthy or incompetent, _then_ I would have the pleasure of firing them.

And it _would _be a pleasure.

I have always prided myself as an excellent judge of character. True, I do not trust easily, but I attempt to give people a fair chance. Such was the case with the new girl. By first appearances, Reilly was a quiet woman, respectful and soft-spoken. I knew, though, that this could change with time. It is the face of the domestic, at least those who wish to keep their positions. But everyone reveals their true selves eventually.

I am reminded of a conversation that took place between me and the Doctor. It had been a beautiful day, the breeze soft and warm, though I had scarce luxury to take time from my duties to enjoy it. I was surprised, though, that the Doctor should be spending such a day inside. It was quite an odd change for a man who insisted upon customary early morning strolls. When I came to get cook's orders for the day, I found him still bent over his desk as he'd been an hour earlier. His breakfast was untouched.

"Do you believe that every man has a dual nature, Poole?" he asked suddenly, looking up from his work with tired eyes.

It was uncommon for the Doctor to address a servant, even one of my high standing in his house, about an aspect of his work. However, I paused in the act of pouring out his tea and gave some thought, then slowly nodded. "I believe everyone has two sides to themselves, sir; one they show to friends and the other to strangers." I paused again. "And perhaps, sir, some people have more than one face."

The Doctor frowned lightly and shook his head. "I do not mean the facades that people have or the roles that they play. I mean _inside;_ that there are two sides of a person. Like... a coin. Good and evil."

I had no answer for this, and I am afraid I looked at him rather oddly. He chuckled, continuing. "Perhaps saying 'good and evil' is a bit common and clichéd. I was thinking..." This time it was he that paused with a shake of his head, and then frowned again. "I believe, Poole, that it is the struggling of these two natures that causes the breakdown of man, of society; war, murder... madness."

I knew to what he referred, and my eyes dropped. _His father_... The Doctor sighed. "I know there is a way to cure him is a way to cure him, Poole. I'll not give up as long as I live."

"I know, sir," I said quietly. A solemn smile crossed the Doctor's lips. "You're a good man, Poole." He glanced away, perhaps realizing the impropriety of our conversation.

Giving him a half bow, I added the cream to his tea with a slow tip of the decanter. "Thank you, sir." I nodded to his tray. "Will you be breakfasting, sir, or shall I take it away?" Looking to the now cold food, he shook his head and sighed slowly. "I'm afraid my appetite has left me, Poole."

"Very good, sir." I set the tea service aside and collected his breakfast tray and turned for the door. The Doctor sank into silence, already lost again within his work. His voice stopped me as I turned to pull the door behind me. "Poole?"

"Sir?" My eyes lifted to him. He had not even looked up, but gestured languidly with one slender, nervous hand.

"I do not wish to be disturbed for the rest of the day."

I frowned. That meant he wasn't going to eat again, but of course I said nothing of my concern. I had already come close to overstepping the boundaries of good service. "Of course, sir. Good day."

"Good day, Poole," he muttered. As the door latched behind me, I still saw him there, hunched over his desk, engrossed in the work that had plagued him for days, weeks, seeming to encompass every moment of his life. I hoped this obsession would not prove the catalyst of the growing sense of unease that tickled the back of my mind. There had been other times when the Doctor had immersed himself in his work, but this seemed different. He often went without food or sleep, and I harbored some concern that he might actually work himself to death, or at least to the wreck of his physical and mental faculties. I prayed the prayer of every good major domo – that the new girl would prove a help to the burdens of the household, and not an added complication.


	5. Chapter 05

When it comes to keeping papers in order, I have never been the most meticulous. With much effort, I have finally managed to sort through my notes, journals, and various bits of fairly useless paper – something I'd intended to do for quite some time. The endeavor has proved a worthwhile one, however, as I have uncovered several parchments, notes and records that I had believed lost. They say a clean environment is most conducive to research. Or do they? Whatever the case, it seems an appropriate enough deduction.

There has been no improvement whatsoever in the state of Father's mental health. I had managed to hide the worst of the truth from myself, but now I am forced to admit it: the deterioration has gone much further than I had originally thought; thus I must make haste to find – to _create_ – something, _anything_ to not only allow him to live longer, but to alleviate his pain.

I chastise myself for my laxity in this matter; nearly seven years have passed. I meant to begin sooner. I _would have_ begun sooner, but the demands of the council have split my attention from what I see now must be my true purpose if my Father is to have any hope at all. The council… Constantly they push me for some sort of groundbreaking presentation to make them shine in the eyes of their betters – and they care less for the topic, for the good it might do mankind, than for the glory with which my work may cover them. Yes, I know the pattern by now: I do the work, and they take the credit. However, it _is_ a job. I will not complain, not yet. As a friend loves to tell me, I never will complain. Dear Utterson. If only I had a bit of his bravery…

If there was only some way to combine the two efforts – to bring before the council the theory that has been occupying my mind now for some time – with good reason. But, no. I am afraid that their view is too narrow to begin to comprehend the direction in which my studies have turned: the nature and origins of man's personality, _Id, Ego, and Superego_.

The subject interests me greatly. It is on the surface such as simple topic, yet there is much below the surface of the human psyche that we have yet to understand. This fresh face – an Austrian – Freud summed it up thusly: We are born with what he called our _Id_, the driving force of our personality as an infant. The Id is driven by what he called the 'pleasure principle', based on a striving to have our basic needs met, and wanting whatever feels good at the time. When a child is hungry, the Id wants food, and therefore the child cries. When the child needs to be changed, the Id cries. When the child is uncomfortable, in pain, too hot, too cold, or just wants attention, the Id speaks up until his or her needs are met. The Id doesn't care about other factors - only _its own immediate satisfaction_.

This makes sense to me. Infants are by their natures concerned only for their own survival, with no consideration for whether their parents are sleeping, relaxing, eating dinner, or bathing. When the Id wants something, _nothing else matters_.

The Id is the base nature, where we all begin, but as a child grows, the second part of the personality begins to develop. Freud called this part the _Ego_. The Ego is based on the 'reality principle', and is the face we show to others from day to day. The Ego understands that other people have needs and desires, and that sometimes being impulsive or selfish is inappropriate and can hurt us in the long run. It's the ego's job to meet the needs of the Id, while taking into consideration the reality of the situation.

The third personality stage, what Freud termed the _Superego,_ usually develops during puberty. To put it simply, the Superego can be equated with the conscience; it dictates what we believe to be right and wrong.

The Ego is often the strongest, appeasing the needs of the Id, trying not to upset the Superego, yet still taking into consideration the reality of every situation. Not an easy job, indeed. If the Id becomes too strong, people resort to their baser instincts and impulses. If the Superego becomes too strong, a person becomes driven by rigid morals, judgmental and unbending. When under hypnosis, often the alienist will seek out the subconscious, which lays just below the surface. But I believe that sometimes, sometimes they can tap into the _unconscious_, the Id.

I do not believe that anyone is inherently evil. There is no 'bad seed', no one irredeemably bad from birth. I believe it is their unconscious, _Id_ nature that has become too much in charge of their responses. Naturally, this begs the question, _What if the Id were removed?_

It was the Id that revealed itself when my father went mad. He resorted to his basest nature. But just how possible could it be to separate and remove such a deeply ingrained part of a man's personality and mind?

So-called "wise men", much like the men on the council, will insist on naming evil as the cause for the diseases of the mind, citing learned sources like Copernicus to support their narrow-minded views.

Copernicus was an idiot and an ass. I simply do not see how any reasonably intelligent man could blame the devil or demons for the causes of madness. Yet people will believe it, even in today's modern world. A priest actually stated that it would be in my father's best interest to undergo an exorcism. An _exorcism_! Of course, I did not allow this. His health is fragile enough, without permitting the abuses and torments of some misguided relic of the dark ages.

Disease is _not_ caused by sin. Insanity is _not_ caused by demons. I do not care how devout a Catholic I was brought up to be, I simply refuse to believe something so incredibly moronic. Microbes and viruses have existed since long before the birth of mankind, yet good 'Catholics' refuse to believe that washing the hands before operating can increase the chances of a patient's survival - _because the practice is new_. It is as if everything under the sun must surely have been discovered, because God has granted man all the knowledge he was meant to have. I could easily turn their own words against them, saying if science and its explorations were not meant to be discovered, then God would not have allowed it in the first place. Of course, I know what their answer would be: 'it was the Devil's doing.' Did not God make Satan? And if God made Satan, and Satan made it possible to find this knowledge, then still... it is _God's_ doing.

I am surely going to hell for my opinion. On my way there, however, I will conclude my research. I only pray that God will forgive me for my thoughts and continue to see me through this.

I could much more believe the theory that madness is organic, coming from deterioration or disease of the brain, before I could believe it has its origin in spirits.

If we accept that premise, then it stands to reason that one approach to treating mental illness would be discovering exactly which kinds of changes in the brain lead to insanity. In studying the brains of the deceased, however, it was found that many diseases did not manifest obvious signs of physical difference between healthy and diseased brains. It was assumed that this was simply because the methods used in attempting to identify the differences were not yet sufficient. Charcot believed this, but then Freud contested him on several points.

Charcot claimed that hysteria had primarily organic causes, and that it had a regular, comprehensible pattern of symptoms. Freud agreed that there was a regular pattern of symptoms, but he did _not_ believe that it was organic. Freud also said something that lit the fuse of controversy. He maintained that _everyone_ has the potential to become mentally ill, no matter what their background. Pauper or aristocrat, both parents or none, beaten or spoiled; it just takes a catalyst, an "Oedipal crisis", as he called it.

As I have said, I believe it is the Id that is most exposed at the time of illness, which furthers my idea that if the Id is suppressed, separated, or completely destroyed, _madness cannot happen_.

I have studied the concoctions the doctors have already given my father, and using them as a base, I have created HJ1, HJ2, and HJ3, all of which have proven to be failures. HJ4 has had some positive results; a wild rabid rat has been soothed into complacency, though expired weeks later. My next step is to acquire some biological samples from a patient with a case similar to his; I will need blood, as well as cerebrospinal fluid; neurotoxins that I can study and perhaps find some answers. I will also need test subjects. There are plenty of strays, though it is not an animals disease I am attempting to cure.

What I need is a human subject...


	6. Chapter 06

There is nothing more tiresome than a gathering of London's self-proclaimed brightest – especially for an occasion of this nature. Proper and primped, gossip-mongers twitter to each other in every corner, and tonight there is plenty of fuel for their fire.

Henry is late for his own engagement party.

I know his work has been keeping him quite busy, and he knows that I would wait until the end of time for him, but even now my patience was running thin. Not because of him, no; but because of the gaggle that decided at that moment to make their presence known.

"He's lucky he lives in modern times. Today's penalties for heresy are not what they should be." The high-and-mighty Bishop of Basingstoke, and he was, again, speaking of my future husband. I could not help but notice that Henry seemed to be the topic among the... I suppose they consider themselves his _superiors_. Ever since he gave them his proposal he'd been the talk of the town; or at least of the council that was flooding into my father's house like rats fleeing a sinking ship. I tried to continue my conversation with Claudia, but the sight of the collected Governors – currently a party of three – held my attention more than my friend's raptures over the newest Parisian couture.

They agreed with the honorable Bishop, of course. General Glossop was the first to raise his voice, and I just managed to refrain from rolling my eyes; to do so would have been _most _unseemly, after all. Casting a glance towards my father, I despaired to find him far too busy with his own conversation to catch my pleading look. I wished with all my heart that the three men of the Board of Governors had not been invited for this, our special occasion; but they were my father's friends and part of Henry's work. I am not sure what the proclamation was about, but it managed to get even dear, and usually silent, John into the conversation. I could have released a sigh of relief when I heard his kind voice speaking up to those men.

"It's not that I agree with Doctor Jekyll's 'blasphemies', Your Grace. I simply believe that one shouldn't be penalized for speaking out, especially when it is to assist one's fellow man." He glanced from one to the other, swirling gin within the small glass, clinking the ice against the sides. When he turned to the Bishop, I listened even more closely. "A person can preach in more than the pulpit of a church, Your Grace; just as you're revealing to us now. You seek the support of your committee, and Doctor Jekyll seeks that of society in general, and the church in particular." I could have kissed the man!

"Miss Carew!" Claudia finally silenced when someone called for me and I turned, lifting a gloved hand in a wave to Lady Postlethwaite with an inward grimace. I hadn't seen the woman in a year and it looked as if she had placed on enough weight to last five times that! Nevertheless, I glued on a pleasant smile when she waddled near to kiss me upon both cheeks. "Wonderful to see you, Lisa," she smiled brightly, her cheeks dimpling. As far as I could remember, she hadn't had dimples before. Truly, she was nearly another woman.

"He laments that there are the mad and the poor roaming the streets," came the voice of Lord Savage. I cursed inwardly. No, no, _no_! I was missing the gossip. Gossip I had the _right_ to listen to! "As long as I've lived in both Saint Judes and Oxford – which is all of my life – I have _never_ laid eyes upon a mad, or a poor, person."

"Gwyneth," I finally responded distractedly, laying my hands upon her taffeta-covered arms, managing to keep the smile at my lips instead of the worried frown that wanted to surface. "It's a pleasure to see you as well. Where is your Lord husband?"

"Oh, he's still at home, probably drinking himself to death..." her voice faded away into the background as I gazed through her, listening to the nearby conversation.

"If anyone is _mad_, it is the Doctor himself." My fingers tightened upon Lady Poselthwaite's arms, wanting to strangle that self-righteous Lady Beconsfield for her scathing words. In a crowd of people tastefully garbed in neutrals and soft pastels, she'd had the poor taste to wear a God a hideous gown of bright purple, black and red, standing out just as she had desired. She held my father trapped beneath her regard, and I could almost see the tired sigh that trembled upon his lips. "Lord Danvers, there you are. We were just speaking of your future son-in-law and the proposal we'll soon have the dubious _pleasure_ of hearing. I'm beginning to wonder, though," She paused, snapping her frilly, lacy fan closed and tapping on his chest with it. I could have sworn I saw his eye twitch as the harpy went on, "…If _you're_ not the mad one, to let him marry your daughter."

I simply could _not_ stand any more.

Offering my apologies to both Claudia and Lady Poselthwaite, I turned toward the brightly-colored old hag, my teeth bared in an icily formal smile. My father watched my approach with some alarm, but I had no time for him – not just now.

"If I remember correctly, Lady Beconsfield, it was my decision to take Henry as a husband, _not_ my fathers." I paused by his side, resting a gentle hand upon his shoulder, which he covered with his own. "I am quite capable for making my own decision. I am, after all, a grown woman." I could tell by the scowl that deepened the lines in her heavily painted face that she didn't like my speaking up one bit. The unfortunate shade of lipstick made her look even more ghastly in her displeasure, as if she had a rotten plum for a mouth. The resemblance was heightened as her lips split in a poor semblance of a haughty smile. "A poor choice, I must say, my dear. Why, he is late for his own engagement party. I do believe that shows a remarkable lack of taste and breeding."

Father groaned as I smiled in return. "Dear Lady Beconsfield, I have always held that those who are lacking in the sense of taste and style should refrain from commenting on others." She stared at me, her bulging eyes giving her the impression of a cod, and tried to wither me with a glare. "Why, I never!" With another snap of her fan, she turned and stormed off in a trail of scarlet train without elucidating on just _what_ she 'never'. Really, with her attitudes and prejudices, I found it amazing that she'd 'never' much more frequently than this. My father tsked softly, giving me a brief, reproachful glance before he chased after the meddling busybody. I managed to still my tongue before I gave another burn to the woman's too-swelled pride.

Never will I understand my father's need to appease that woman – his status is equal to her own. As he went to explain to Lady Beconsfield that Henry was in fact an impeccable candidate for a husband, I turned to John, finding him still trying to stop choking on his gin. He grinned broadly. "Just like your mother. She had a tongue that could cut the sails of a thousand ships."

"Lord knows she has enough hot air to power that many." With a sigh, I smiled to him and leaned in to embrace him warmly. "Thank you so much for coming, dear Mr. Utterson. Henry will be delighted to have you here." Easing back from the light squeeze of his arms, I glanced over his shoulder to the door, where my fiancé was at last making his arrival.

"Finally," I sighed softly and raised my eyes to John. "Thank you, my friend." He nodded, offering me a smile, then stepped back into the crowd to continue his conversations with the others. I watched Henry from afar. He looked tired, yet even now his eyes were bright with a trace of lingering excitement. Two of his colleagues caught him near the door. I turned to go and find my father, only to come face to face with a familiar man, one I had been dreading to see.

I inclined my head coldly. "Mister Stride..."


	7. Chapter 07

"Simon! I hadn't expected you to come. It's very gracious of you to wish Lisa and Henry well." I managed to hide my grimace behind a thin smile and bowed to the old man. As much as I respected him, he was sorely misled to think that I would ever wish Henry good tidings - especially when it came to Lisa.

She was seventeen when I first saw her. I still remember the cornflower blue of her dress, the exact shade of her eyes, and the way the light shone on the soft curls of her reddish blonde hair drawn up into a high chignon. A few loose coils always tended to frame the sides of her face no matter how many times she tried to press them back behind her ears. For some reason, she always felt a need to bury her nose in a book. It surprised me that a woman would be so interested in science. She caught my interest immediately; her intelligence, her beauty. Even then I believed she would make a wonderful wife. However, while I had my eye on her, she had her eye on a man a little over her age who was aspiring to become a doctor.

Yes, Henry.

I suppose it is my fault that I introduced him to her, though it would have been rude of me if I had not. We were at one of her father's spring gatherings, celebrating the new patronage of Saint Jude's hospital. Her father had been chairman of the board for many years before I met her, and strangely enough he had never sought a higher position. He was always a modest man, one that never jumped at an advantage, or took grasp of a great opportunity. It was there when I found that my best friend at the time and the woman I had fallen for were having outings together. A few years had passed since their first meeting, and I had believed that Henry's interests were going to wane, or I was going to be able to sway Lisa's attention in my direction. I was sorely mistaken. She shunned me and what I could have offered her. Almost ten years later she and Henry were still together, their care for each other blossomed into love, and they became inseparable.

It was sickening.

"My dear Sir Danvers, as much as I would like to say that is true, I cannot." I shrugged, offering my best smile and Danvers gave me a quizzical look. One that turned to an expression of understanding; he knew my feelings for Lisa. He cleared his throat lightly and nodded. Upon hearing her I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. Blue always did bring out her beautiful eyes. "I would offer Lisa anything, I have offered her everything. I'll wish her the best of luck within her future endeavors. But as for Henry..." Turning back to the older man my lips thinned within a bordering sneer. I managed to keep it to a razor-edged smile. "He could go to hell for all I care." I had no qualms with speaking my true feelings to Danvers. He knew my opinion of Henry ever since he had snatched the woman of my dreams from beneath my nose. He said nothing to my claims, for the comments of Lady Beaconsfield had drawn his attention. It was his duty to 'protect' his future son-in-law's reputation. I took this opportunity to approach Lisa who was taking her leave from Mister Utterson.

"Mister Stride," she stated coolly, raising her chin in both greeting as well as to meet my eyes. I could almost hear the disdain within those two simple words. She was still sore at me for my approach of her over a year ago; it was the last time we had spoken.

I had known that the two have been one since we were young adults, and while I had kept my silence it was the revealing of their engagement that had struck me deeply. I spoke to Lisa, attempting to talk some sense into her. She was surely making a big mistake, marrying Henry. How would he support her once his funds had run dry? His father had been his biggest draw of income, and since the old cuss took sick, the 'Good Doctor' had been spending all of his funds in finding some type of cure for the man's illness. A task that was impossible. No one can turn back what God has already set in motion. Since his research has taken a drastic turn, Henry hadn't been taking any patients, thus further limiting his funds.

I had thought to speak to her again before she ruined her life.

"Miss Carew. It has been a while." Resting a hand to my mid-drift I bowed gently to her, tipping my head to the side before I straightened again. She looked amused; a smile danced at the corners of her lips. Turning from me with a rustle of taffeta and satin I could almost hear her unspoken 'not long enough.' I followed her gaze up toward Henry who was speaking with Mister Michaels and Mister Winston.

"Yes, it has been. I trust you've been well, Simon?" She glanced over her shoulder to me then turned as if she had just remembered her manners. I tried not to let my irritation show and smiled broadly to her.

"Yes, well enough." When had she grown so? Last I remember of her she was a shy young woman, barely meeting my eyes. There she stood, her gaze resting expectantly upon my own and I found my protests caught within my throat. Could she not see that I still adored her, even if I believed that she could be choosing a better path in life?

"You had something to speak of, Mister Stride?" One thin, coppery brow rose and she folded her hands before her, the very model of propriety. Henry was drawing near, and I stepped closer to her, taking a hold of a gloved hand to urge her to walk with me. The others around us were loud, and so they were a perfect excuse. We hadn't gone far and we weren't followed; her dear fiancé had paused to speak with a few others. I smiled grimly and looked down to her again.

"Lisa. What kind of man would leave his wife-to-be alone in his own engagement party? He has drowned himself within his work, barely allowing himself to gain a breath of fresh air. All was bliss before but ... Can you not see that this isn't a dream anymore?" I was never too keen on tact. All those around me knew that I said what I wished to say and with little thought of repercussions. Though a tired sigh passed her lips, I continued. "This isn't the life for you, Lisa. You deserve better than this. You deserve a husband who will be by your side and never neglect you for his work, of all things."

"I can accept this from my father, Simon. He wants nothing but the best for me, and wanted to see me grow up like my mother. But when it comes from people who are supposed to be friends ... it grows tiring." She slipped her hand from my own, bringing it down for her fingers to loosely twine before her once again. "I'm not who I used to be. Not who you wish me to be. Simon, I'm far too independent for a man of your stature. God knows I have a mouth on me, and I wouldn't wish to bring shame to your great title." I regarded her, unsure if she was being sarcastic or speaking the truth. Her words seemed honest enough, and before I had gotten a chance to speak, she went on. "Henry asks nothing of me beyond understanding and patience." Her tone turned wistful, and as she looked back toward Henry again my fingers clenched into white knuckled fists.

"Lisa. This is all folly! Listen to reason."

"Simon, please! Enough!" She turned around to me, her eyes sharply lifting to my own. Anger had thinned her lips and folded her hands tighter together. I scowled sharply as she proceeded to berate me. "I've made my decision. Neither you nor those pompous fools over there will change my mind at all. Ever. You had your chance a long time ago, Simon. Instead you chose to attempt to woo me with money and position instead of with who you are. My father is a wealthy man, who is well known within this city, leaving your efforts useless and redundant. Stop being so tiresome and understand that this is what I want. This is what makes me happy. And to be truthful ... I do not care if it makes you miserable. This is my life I am leading, and if I'm taking the wrong path, then I will find out on my own."

The silence between us was palatable, as was the tension. I stared hard at her and she stood, perfectly unshaken, beneath the look. We had attracted the attention of a few around us, and I lowered my voice, controlling the irritation that was undoubtedly settled within. "You're going to regret those words one day, Lisa. You're going to see that everything that I've ever told you is true, and that you would've been better off with me."

She only smiled. "We'll see, Sir. Good day, Mister Stride." With a curtsey I couldn't help but feel was condescending, she turned and approached her dear fiancé, leaving me behind staring at the trail of her light blue gown.

I watched the two of them as they embraced, then kissed each other fondly. Watched them until they disappeared into the crowd of their admirers. My dislike of the Doctor had only been mild up until then; now it was a full blown hatred. He had taken the woman that was supposed to be_ my _wife, the only one to catch my attention as securely as she had.

He would pay dearly for that. I would make _sure _of it.


	8. Chapter 08

"I would offer Lisa anything, I have offered her everything. I'll wish her the best of luck within her future endeavors. But as for Henry..." He turned to me with a sharp smile. "He could go to hell for all I care."

I managed to hide my sigh at the venom trapped within Simon's voice. I wasn't ignorant enough to believe that Simon had any well feelings for my future son-in-law. Though, I cannot help but place some of the blame upon his too ambitious nature. My dear Lisa was never drawn by the thought of status or of monetary worth – after all, being my daughter, she had both. But Simon couldn't seem to understand this. 'What woman wouldn't want to elevate her station more than she has already?', he had told me once. I couldn't help but wonder if he was belittling me. Considering that he was a but a secretary of St. Judes Board of Governors, and I was Chairman as well as Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire, he had no place to speak. Lisa's station could very well be seen as higher than his own.

I was ready to admonish and remind him of just who managed to ward away Lisa when I heard Lady Beaconsfield astonishingly shrill voice speaking ill of Henry, as she had so often as of late. I sighed. It was going to be a night of that, it seemed. The Doctor assured it with his tardiness.

I had hoped to herd the woman elsewhere, preferably back to the others of the board, but I found myself caught in a crossfire I didn't enjoy in the least. My daughter had a sharp wit and even sharper tongue, one she was wielding quite well against the peacock of a woman. Try as she might to meet the younger woman stroke for stroke, she eventually turned away in a huff, fanning herself in a swift flurry. I found myself sighing for the second time, and predicted I would be doing so a hundred times more.

The look I gave Lisa before I retreated after the woman was of exasperation, but her beautiful smile – so like her mother's – dashed away all forms of irritation. I only shook my head, and turned to the firing squad. Or perhaps I can better relate them to a pack of wild dogs.

"You have quite the willful daughter, Sir Danvers." The plum colored fan was still fluttering madly in the air, casting gusts of wind against the powdered face of the shrewd woman, and I smiled, lifting my eyes to her own.

"She takes after her mother," I responded, shrugging helplessly.

She sniffed, shutting the fan with a snap. "A little too much."

My scowl was barely restrained, turning my smile tight, and I slid my hands into the pockets of my trousers. I should be used to her dry, cynical nature by now – I have been working with the woman for several years – though there were certain times when she crossed the line. Though according to the widowed Elizabeth Beckonsfield, there was no such thing as crossing lines. She did what she wished to do and without worrying about the reactions and concerns of others. A spoiled crone of a woman if I have ever met one.

"Yes, well. It's not my daughter or my late wife that I wish to speak about, Lady, but the meeting that is coming soon." I noted the bored, and decidedly oblivious expression upon her face, and cleared my throat. "Dr. Jekyll's presentation?" I knew she recalled, she simply wished to give me a hard time. _Old goat._

"Yet another one of his presentations that promises 'life altering changes' only to fail miserably. This is what? The third, Teddy?" Flicking open her fan again she began waving it just beneath her chin, and it took everything I had to keep from snatching the blasted thing away.

As an Earl, Theodore Savage was one of the wealthiest men on this side of London, and he did all that he could to flaunt it, especially around the hospital proper. The medical institution was not a place where a person needed to dress their finest, wearing the latest fashions and flashing a jewel encrusted spectacle among other baubles and trinkets he carried around with him. He used to be a good man; level-headed, cool tempered who would help his fellow man without thought. Though the moment he came into greater money and found his place upon the hospitals board of Governors his whole out look had changed. With the widowed Beckonsfield at his side – an affair they keep at a stage-whisper – it was guaranteed that his rank will soon elevate among polite society.

As I had said once, I will say time and time again: power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"Fourth I believe, Bessie," he responded, and I lost count how many times I sighed this night alone.

"Science is trial and error. Even I – someone who isn't a scientist or doctor – know this. I only ask that you give this fascinating prospect a chance. Read over his proposition, at the least, before you toss it aside without thought." I looked over the faces before me, going from one to the other, and almost smiled when it seemed they were thoughtful. It was a start.

"He does this for his father, something that is admirable, but the man has lost his attachment to reality. Schizophrenia, dementia... He is criminally insane and should be kept in his catatonic state. God has decided that his soul is lost, and tampering with it is blasphemy." Any urge I might have had to smile fell completely when the Bishop spoke up. A bad start.

I have always wondered about Rupert and his seemingly tentative ties with the church. As the Bishop of Basingstoke, one would expect him to conduct himself properly. Though he is oft seen with drink in his hand and a foul word upon his lips once he steps outside of the church. Perhaps that could be overlooked due to his charity to the various orphanages in the area. St. James and Oxford area, as well as his rounds in White Chapel. If there was an area that needed the word of God, that was one of them.

There was agreements all around, and I frowned. I truly wished to see Henry complete his studies, not only for the sake of others, but for the sake of his father. He had become like a brother to me over the years, and when he fell ill after his wife's death, it killed me to watch his decline. Henry had many of his father's traits; his determination most of all. I knew that if his proposition wasn't accepted this time, he would try again until he would be satisfied with the outcome.

I only hope he kept his title in mind. To let his determination sway him too much could endanger it.

"Archy. Late as usual," the Lady purred fondly, sauntering over to the youngest of us all. She slid her arm into the loop of his elbow and stepped over. Amused, I regarded his clothing; flamboyantly colorful. To say that Archibald's state of dress was the only thing queer would be an understatement.

"It's the dreadful weather. Fog, fog and more fog. Evening, Bessie, Teddy, Bishop, General. And good evening to you too as well, Sir Danvers." If it wasn't for his smug tone, I would almost think his politeness genuine. I smiled nevertheless and nodded to him. "Sir Archibald," I responded in kind and glanced over to Gregory. The General had been rather quiet during this conversation; he stood there, his bearded face stoic, and listened. I knew he'd have something to say before the evening was over.

"I hadn't missed anything yet, have I? I had hoped to be here before the fireworks," Archibald slipped off his silken gloves and tucked them together, holding them in one hand while giving a pat to the back of Elizabeth's hand with the other.

_Missed them by a few minutes,_ I thought, reflecting over the sparks that were flying between the Lady and my daughter. "You came in time for our conversation concerning Dr. Jekyll's proposal. I am curious as to your opinion. Perhaps you can provide us your insight?"

"I hadn't bothered reading it yet. There is still time before the meeting is to take place." He laughed softly, then plucked a bit of lint from my dinner coat with the tips of his fingers. Dusting off the shoulder, he returned his hand to the woman's arm that was still hooked with his own. "I...skimmed, if that will soothe your nerves, Sir Danvers." It didn't, but I nodded anyway.

Just when I had begun to think the conversation was going to finally sway away from Dr. Jekyll, I saw Simon approaching from the corner of my eyes. There was a mixture of emotion upon his face I couldn't quite sort out, but one stood out before all the others; anger. It tightened the line of his jaw and turned his dark eyes cool, his smile more razor sharp than before.

"Evening, Lady. Gentlemen." After a nod to them, he turned to me. "If I might have a word with you, Sir Danvers?"

I nodded and begun to step back, only to see the man of the hour come into the foyer, shrugging off his coat to hand it over to Davidson, my butler. "Excuse me a moment, Simon. I'll return shortly." He glanced over his shoulder, following my gaze, and I believe his jaw – which had just began to slacken – went tight again.

"Yes, of course." He turned away from me before I had a chance to speak, but I was too focused on my need to talk to Henry to bother with the slight. Besides, he began speaking with the others.

"Perhaps when the wedding date is decided I should invite the guests for the day _after_ the ceremony," I questioned while approaching Henry who was straightening his vest. He laughed softly, and clasped my shoulder, giving me an almost boyish grin.

"Forgive me, Sir Danvers. I had become distracted trying to perfect my presentation. I'm very excited about this chance." He rubbed his gloves together, the white cloth at the fingertips stained darkly, undoubtedly from ink. His eyes were traveling over the throng of people just over my shoulder, looking for Lisa, of course. I only smiled, then brought his attention back with a clear of my throat.

"It seems that very presentation is all the governors can speak about."

"Oh! Wonderful! They're excited to hear it, then?"

I grimaced inwardly and glanced away from him, not quite sure how to answer his question. "Excited would be one way to put it." He was distracted again, thankfully. I truly didn't wish to go into just what was being said. I could only hope that Henry knew what he was doing, and that the Board would be willing to listen to what he had to say. "She's waiting for you I believe, Dr. Jekyll, and so I will speak to you another time, perhaps before the party is ended."

He brought his eyes to me again, sparkling with mirth and shook his head. "I'm scatterbrained tonight. Thank you, Sir. I'll not keep her waiting." Smiling warmly, he excused himself and I nodded, watching him as he hastily disappeared into the sea of wool and taffeta.

I dreaded returning to the group, but I knew I had to entertain them, or I will hear about my 'rudeness' for the rest of the year. Or at least until another pillar made a slight. Gossip-mongers and hypocrites, they were. Fellow employees that couldn't be avoided no matter how much I would like to. Simon was speaking to them, and it was their glances to me that roused my curiosity, and I approached, praying that they wouldn't begin to go into the conversation about Henry again.

Thankfully my prayers were answered, but the silence that laid between the lot of us unnerved me.

What unnerved me more, though, was the self-satisfied smile on Simon's lips.


End file.
